P is very generous. She really is. Every time I visit her I pretty much bring no clothes because she lets me borrow all of hers- and doesn’t complain. In fact, I didn’t want to lug my coat around last year so she even let me wear one of hers. She lets me wear her perfume and makeup and everything. She’s a real nicey.

Also, she’s just very thoughtful. When I went to see her last time she had a tea in her hand when I came off the plane. It was really sweet. She sends me the sweetest video messages on facebook, and is always making me laugh!

Not only that, but she’s generous with others. She went to India last summer to teach children, which I think is so admirable. She also helped out at a Prom Dress event in which girls that couldn’t afford to buy a new dress could go and get slightly used dresses at a discount. She’s just a good person with a good heart. And I’m proud to call her my little sister. 

During the Summer of 2004 I was a newly married college student. That summer I was taking one class and working at the university- which was only like a 30 hour a week job. Put it this way- I had lots of time on my hands. This allowed me lots of time to hang out with P.

For some reason that summer we thought it would be fun to take up tennis. Let’s keep in mind that neither of us have all that much athletic ability. Sure, P was a cheerleader, and yes I work out at the gym- but please let me assure you, that does not convert into athletic ability. Will is always trying to get me to play basketball with him, and I’m just pitiful.

I’m getting off track!

Anyway- because we were so awful we would go in the middle of the afternoon, the height of summer heat and misery and pain, so no one would see us. I’m surprised neither of us suffered from heat exhaustion, really.

We would stand on opposite sides of the net and P would serve and it would hit the net and bounce back to her feet.

Then she’d serve and it’d fly over the net and I’d be swinging in the air on the left side, when the ball was on the right side.

Then I would try to serve and it would go flying, or it wouldn’t pass the net, or it would go into the other court.

We were awful.

We volleyed back and forth a few times- in the course of the whole month we devoted to tennis- but that was the extent of it. My mom and Will would occasionally go with us in the evenings. Will would try to play with us, but unfortunately he has no “off” switch. He is always in competitive game mode, out to win. He had fire in his eyes, and I swear had he been bald I would have mistaken him for Andre Agassi. So while me and P just wanted someone to gently hit the ball back and forth with us, Will was out for war. He wanted to hit the ball hard, he wanted to win, he wanted to make us hate him. He would frustrate me for not just freaking playing “nice” and I would frustrate him for chasing after the ball nonstop and not being able to hit anything. Fun times. Hmm, maybe this Spring I’ll convince to give it another go! What do you think?

Happy Valentine’s Day!! <3

Ahaha the title makes me laugh. Yes, the pun IS intended. You’ll see here in a second.

P may kill me for this one, but here goes.

P had a pet broccoli named Marker.

Yes.

Broccoli.

As a pet.

That was named Marker.

Did you hear me?!

Broccoli.

As. A. PET.

I’ve known about Marker for several years now but I’m sitting here typing this and still laughing to myself.

No wait.

Out loud.

I’m laughing out loud.

It’s just that bizarre.

Marker was a tiny broccoli stem that my sister housed on her windowsill. You know, because everyone knows that’s the perfect spot for a dog broccoli house!

I can’t prove it, but I think there was even a possibility Marker had a posse of other tiny vegetable friends to include Carrot, Green Bean, and Parsnip.

I’m almost positive P cried the day my mom threw Marker away. You would have thought an event like this- an event in which you found out your young daughter had resorted to keeping a small foodstuff as a pet- would lead you to think, “Hmm… maybe we should get a dog after all…”

However, that did not happen. We didn’t get a dog for years later. Huh…

P has excellent music taste. I tell her all the time that she should totally DJ on the side. If you’re throwing a party, you want P to be the one spinning.

She is always so thoughtful and sends me lists of music that I should download.

It keeps me young.

In fact, several years ago P was the one that introduced me to trance music- and Tiesto.

Tiesto… ah that was during my blog hiatus. We actually went to a concert. I so wish I would have posted about that! We went on Halloween of 09. It was amazing. He started spinning at around 11 that night and didn’t stop until after 3. Best.Concert.Ever. I owe it all to P!

P was a big Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen fan back in the day. Although- who wasn’t in the mid 90s? They were so darn cute!

I remember after Full House they ventured off on their own and did their own video series which was BRUTAL for my young teenage self.

I remember babysitting P one time and having to sit through one of those movies and watch it over and over and over. I also remember one in which they sang about eating broccoli and chocolate.  Yes. Together. Who does that? I’m pretty sure I fell asleep during that one. I was lucky I didn’t wake up with a permanent marker mustache or frozen panties.

I was a very reliable babysitter. 

I remember way back in the day, when I used to wear loafers and giant bangs, I would come home from grade school and my mom and sister would be there waiting for me every time I got home.

P would be so happy to see me. Like a cute little lab puppy, only yappier (haha, just kidding P). Like every time it was though it was the first time I had ever been away from her and she was excited to see me and hear about school- a place she had little concept of at the time.

We would sit at the counter and have a snack and talk, and then I’d start on my homework. I just remember how nice it was to come home to my family every day and feel like it was a party each time I got home. <3

Do you guys remember what life was like before PS3, and Wii, and all that other interactive virtual reality goobly goo?

Haha, sorry about the “goobly goo.” It seemed like the right thing to say. Let’s move on.

Anyway- before all that “goobly goo” on the market, we didn’t have games that could gauge our movements, or remotes we could use as bowling balls. We actually had remotes connected to a video game system and we had to sit stationary to play them. Ah the good old days…

Well during the height of my childhood, the Super Nintendo was king. Do you guys remember that? How could you not!? Super Mario Brothers was the coolest thing since snap bracelets and NKOTB!

Well I like to consider myself a “guru” of the game. A professional, if you will. Much like Barbies (Ahem, see Day 5). I didn’t need a pesky four year old bothering me while I was “gaming,” you know? So- in order to make P feel like she was playing and part of the game, I would put it on two player mode. Only- instead of plugging in the other remote control, I would only use mine, therefore making me both players.

I would give P the other remote and tell her how GREAT of a Mario player she was. Better than me! “You just beat Bowser, P! WOW!” And she bought it.  And she felt like a million dollar bucks because she kicked my butt in Mario Brothers.

Ha.

Being a big sister definitely had perks. 

I remember there were many occasions during our young childhood in which I banished P from my bedroom.

I was a major Barbie player.

It was a very serious thing to me.

I would spend hours setting up the Barbie’s house, complete with multiple bedrooms- one of which had a makeshift waterbed, an elaborate kitchen complete with fancy tiny Barbie-sized appliances, a fancy living room, the pool, the garage, I even had a bathtub that pumped bubbles.

I was pretty serious about Barbies-

but you already knew that.

Not just because I’ve told you twice just now- but probably because I actually made my own Barbie waterbed.

What a weirdo.

Anyway- when my mom moved some stuff out of storage last year, our Barbie stuff had been preserved in giant Rubbermaid containers (you know- in hopes that maybe one day I would FREAKING HAVE A KID ALREADY). I honestly thought about setting up a house. Just for fun. As a mid-twenty something. Yes. The thought crossed my mind.

There were many occasions in which a young toddler-aged P, because I was convinced she hated me, would come into my room and crush it all. It was like she was a giant Godzilla, clad in Osh-Kosh and pink bows stomping in so hard the Earth would shake, wreaking havoc on all around her.  Only, instead of destroying Asian metropolitan areas, this Godzilla was out to destroy blonde-haired, giant breasted Barbies and their places of residence. It drove me mad. I think I banished her from my room on a daily basis back then.

She was such a punk.

In case you’re wondering - the ban has since been lifted. 

Parents are so funny and have this unique ability to con their children into doing something totally normal and acting as though it’s a real treat or reward. As a lot of you are parents, I’m sure you can relate.

One of my parents’ stealthy tactics was bribing us to clean our rooms, empty the dishwasher, etc. and in exchange me and P could have a “sleepover.” A sleepover consisted of me and P sleeping on the pullout couch in the living room and watching a movie.

In our own house.

Where we already lived and slept.

Why did we think that was so spectacular? Couldn’t we have figured out that there was really absolutely no incentive to cleaning our rooms?! How silly. Yet we fell for it every time. Such suckers. Our favorite movies, if I remember, were Home Alone, Fern Gully, and A Little Princess. I’m sure there were more, but that’s what came to mind.

We would stay up late- which looking back was probably only 11- and sneak snacks out of the kitchen, really thinking we were being quiet.

We weren’t.

And when we’re together 15 years later we still have sleepovers when we get to see each other. Only we most definitely don’t empty the dishwasher or clean our rooms beforehand.

That’s for suckers.

When P is in Oklahoma on break she makes me breakfast every morning. Seriously, she does. She gets up earlier than she has to and she’ll make me breakfast. Sometimes it’s cereal, sometimes it’s oatmeal with fruit, sometimes it’s a homemade smoothie- it’s always so healthy and so delicious. And then we eat breakfast together before I go to work. And then she sends me out the door. It’s like a weird modern day version of Leave it to Beaver. She’s Donna Reed (minus the apron) and I’m Beaver, goofy grin and all.